


Most Indignant

by Lo Turner-Kane (doujinbag)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Anxiety, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doujinbag/pseuds/Lo%20Turner-Kane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years ago, Alex was vibrant. Now, Miles knows Alex isn’t the same electric boy he was when they first met. Miles can see that something has broken. <i>Alex</i> is broken.<br/>He just can't tell <i>how.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Indignant

**Author's Note:**

> Ookay so first and foremost, this is the reason I haven't updated Pretty Visitors yet. Been workin on this, y'all. Now hush up and take your damn milex.  
> Secondly, trigger warning for eating disorders, especially bulimia. Please please please, if this can trigger you, don't read this. I want you all to be safe and happy<3  
> Thirdly, I should tell why I wanted to write this in the first place. No, I'm not writing it just to hurt your fangirl feelings, promise. I actually struggled with an eating disorder a little while back so I took all my feelings and turned it into... whatever this is. (I'm not trying to get attention by saying that, so please don't assume so or accuse me of it. Thank you.)  
> Anyways, here's... this.

A few years ago, Alex was vibrant. There was a certain whim about him that could flip a gloomy day on its head and make the sky light up in iridescent colors. Everywhere he went, people were pulled to him like a magnet. He was hot shit and he knew it, and he never went anywhere without bearing that knowledge in a grin.

But that was a few years ago.

Now, Miles knows Alex isn’t the same electric boy he was when they first met. Things first started to change just two months before they moved in together; Alex became more paranoid, more jumpy whenever someone walked into the same room as him. And somewhere in his eyes, Miles can see that something has broken. _Alex_ is broken.

-

_Wednesday, 6am. Wake up. Check phone. Crawl out of bed, don’t wake Miles. First stop: ~~kitchen~~ no ~~bathroom~~ no ~~kitchen~~ **no.**_

_Bathroom it is._

Alex slowly tiptoes down the hallway of their flat, cringing at the way the floorboards creak beneath his feet. Even his shadow carries weight in its torso that causes the whole house to tremble.

 _Went to bed early last night, there’s nothing in my system. Fuck, I still look tired. My face is all sunken in and my lips are peeling. I should probably drink more water._ Probably _._

He pulls up the hem of his oversized t-shirt– an old thing of Miles’s– and gulps as he stares at his stomach. _I am fucking disgusting._

He pinches at his belly and twists the loose skin between his fingers. God, he would give anything to be able to throw up right now–

“Babe?” Miles says through the bathroom door. “I needa piss, could ye maybe hurry up? Sorry…”

Alex washes his hands on instinct and quickly hits them against the hand towel next to the sink as his form of quickly drying them. He swings the door open and looks at Miles with sleepy eyes. “Was just washin’ me face,” he says, kissing Miles’s cheek. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

_I need a fucking cigarette._

-

Fridays are the worst, really. Nothing makes Alex more anxious than Miles’s desires to go out with him to clubs or parties every weekend. He’s never been a people person, but at this rate, he prefers sleeping away eternity in a casket as opposed to looking someone in the eye and pretending he’s having the time of his life.

Sadly, his wishes for eternal sleep are delayed for today.

Right now, he sits at a crowded bar in the midst of one of Miles’s favorite nightclubs with a burning cigarette in one hand and his phone gripped tightly in the other. He can hear some drunken bird squawking at unholy volumes in his right ear, but his left is pressed against Miles’s shoulder securely. He can hear his boyfriend’s heartbeat pulsing through his arm as said man carries on conversation with random passersby. Despite the mess of people around him, Alex feels sake with Miles by his side.

Still, he wishes he were at home right now, far away from any clutter that exists outside of his head.

-

“Alex, for God’s sake, how long does it take ye t’pick out one bloody outfit?”

Miles watches from the foot of their bed as his boyfriend paces in front of the closet anxiously. Alex seems to be giving every article of clothing that he possesses the evil eye and it’s driving Miles _insane._

“We’re only going t’the library, Al. C’mon, pick summat an’ go.”

Sucking in a cold breath, Alex reaches into the wardrobe and pulls out a pair of loose jeans and a hoodie three sizes too big for him. He changes without glancing at a mirror and once he’s done, he turns to Miles with a worried pout darkening his face. “Do I look okay?” he asks quietly.

“Ye sorta look like a baby drowning in ‘is clothes,” Miles teases. “But absolutely adorable, definitely.”

Alex huffs and slides on Converse to distract himself from the body-length mirror lurking behind him, calling out to him, _taunting_ him. “It’s okay t’admit I’m fuckin’ fat,” he mutters lowly under his breath.

“What was tha’, love?”

“Nothin’.” Alex bites his lip and looks away from the Scouser. “Nothin’ at all.”

-

It’s a morning of some weekday– Alex doesn’t keep track of the days anymore– when he’s woken up by a loud _“Babe?”_

Blinking himself awake, Alex slowly slips out of bed and creeps down the hall until he sees Miles standing in the bathroom. “Hmm?” Alex questions sleepily.

“Babe, why do we ‘ave so much mouthwash?” Miles asks. “I opened the sink cabinet to find summat an’ there’s jus’… bottles an’ bottles o’ fuckin’ Listerine down ‘ere?” Alex can practically see the insinuated question marks hovering over Miles’s head. “I don’t remember ever buying so much.”

“Oh,” Alex yawns quietly. “Oh, I jus’ bought a whole bunch ‘cause I figured, why not? ‘elps t’be prepared in advance.”

Miles nods and kisses Alex’s temple ever so gently. “I were jus’ wonderin’, love. Go on back t’sleep, now.”

The sinking feeling in Alex’s empty stomach essentially mocks him as he trudges back to their bedroom with heavy feet.

-

_No. No. No. No. No. This cannot be happening. Please, oh god, please, tell me this isn’t right. Please, please, please…_

Alex stands on the bathroom scale with shaking fists and a face sticky with fallen tears. He wants to bash the numbers at his feet into the ground and kill them, kill his weight, kill himse–

No. Not that. He’s too scared.

Either way, he’s gained half a kilo since last week.

He stares up at his tear-stained reflection in the smudged mirror glass and clenches his teeth tightly to keep himself from breaking it with his feet. _God, I’m a fucking failure._

His chest aches as he picks up his carefully placed toothbrush off the porcelain sink and rolls the blue handle between his fingers. Slowly, he gets down on his knees, lifts the toilet seat, and says goodbye to the breakfast he had this morning.

Thank god Miles isn’t home.

-

_Six months ago, I was 70 kilos. Then in August, I was 62. Now I’m… what, 57? 58?_

_Doesn’t matter. Still too much._

“Alex!”

Alex breaks from his train of thought and stares across the dining table at Miles, cheeks flushed and eyes worn from an entire week of no sleep. “W-what?”

“I’ve been tryna talk t’ye for the pas’ five minutes, where’s your mind been?” Miles asks. Alex stares at the cigarette in the man’s hand, the gray wisps of smoke ghosting off from the tip of it, and sighs. He wants a cigarette more than anything right now, but it wouldn’t be good for him. He doesn’t care about his lungs; he just knows smoking can make you gain weight. He threw out all his cigarettes three weeks ago.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “What’d ye want?”

“Wanted t’know where ye wanna go for dinner tonight,” Miles says.

“Oh. I don’t care,” Alex mumbles. “Surprise me, love.”

Just as he’s about to get up from the table, Miles grabs him by one weak arm and pulls himself closer. “Hey,” he says, staring his lover in the eye. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Told ye, ‘m jus’ tired…”

“Ye didn’t say that. Didn’t say anythin’ other than ‘sorry’.”

“Oh?” Alex rubs his eyes with shaky hands and swallows a lump in his throat. “I don’t even know what ‘m sayin’ anymore, everythin’ is a big blur…”

“Ye should sleep, darlin’,” Miles says. “Take ye t’the doctor, get ye some sorta sleeping med–”

“No!” Alex exclaims. “N-no doctors. I don’t like ‘em…”

Miles just sighs and nods slowly. “I understand. ‘ow about I make ye some tea, ye take some sorta lavender bath, and see if tha’ ‘elps ye nap for a lil bit?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Yeah, okay. Thank ye.”

“O’ course, love. Anythin’ I can do t’help.”

Alex makes sure to wince out of Miles’s view.

-

_Thursday- 58 kilos this morning. not losing anything, not gaining anything either. apple for breakfast. half a sub sandwich for lunch. leftover spaghetti for dinner. should run later._

Miles stares at the book in his hands with a mix of confusion and worry that thumps in his heart. He’s found Alex’s small black journal tucked away between the mattress and the box springs while cleaning their room, and now, he can’t help himself but read it. It’s some sort of food log, apparently, but why does Alex need to keep track of his meals?

_What is this?_

He hears Alex come home– he asked him to run out to buy him some menthols while he cleaned the house– but he doesn’t have enough time to put the journal back where he found it. Alex walks right into the room and sees _Miles-book-eyes-fear-food log-_ oh god.

“What’re ye ‘olding?” he whispers.

“I- Al, ‘m sorry, I jus’- I found it an’…”

“Put it down,” he begs. “Please, put it _down.”_

Miles tosses the book on the bed, pages fluttering, and gulps. “Al, why do ye ‘ave a- a meal tracker or whatever in there?”

Alex holds his breath and Miles sees a million different thoughts flicker past in the pupils of Alex’s eyes. _Please, don’t tell me you’re sick, don’t tell me you’re–_

“I’ve been dieting, I suppose,” the brunet finally says.

“It says you’re fifty-eight kilos, Al. That’s… ‘m no doctor, but tha’ can’t be good.”

“Tha’ was a while ago!” Alex immediately defends. “In like… October. ‘m like, sixty-four now, or summat. ‘m eatin’ better, ‘s all.”

Miles shifts his gaze to the book, then Alex, then back to the book, and finally on Alex again. “Okay,” he exhales. “Okay, love, I believe ye. Sorry for overreacting.”

“’s all right,” Alex says. “I see why you’d be nervous.”

Alex hands Miles his new pack of menthols and receives a quick kiss in exchange before Miles leaves the room to go smoke.

He’s just glad Miles didn’t see the separate log in the back of the book titled _Purges._

-

“If it ‘elps any, I think you’re absolutely beautiful,” Miles says one chilly December night as they curl up on the settee.

Alex shifts his head to stare at the taller lad and raises his eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

“Ye seem a bit… _down_ lately, ‘s all. An’ I think ye should know… you’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful.”

Alex squirms a bit under Miles’s touch and struggles to cover up the sudden rumbling of his stomach with a cough. “Thanks,” he finally says. “But you’re right, it doesn’t really ‘elp.”

“O-oh.” Miles wasn’t expecting that reaction. It feels as if someone just opened up a window and let the frigid air waft through the room. Alex feels cold in every sense.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean t’sound so negative,” Alex mutters, closing his eyes.

Miles doesn’t say anything at all.

-

The worst part about binging is what always comes after.

Miles is at work tonight, meaning Alex is all alone in their flat. For the past ten minutes, he’s torpedoed through almost his entire stash of binge foods, save for a bag of candy and a few kinds of potato crisps. As he sits on the floor of their bedroom, he stares around at the countless wrappers that surround him. Tears prick at the corners of his red eyes and he takes shaky breaths to keep himself from screaming.

_Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why._

He casts one look down the dimly lit hallway and _knows_ what he has to do. Weakly, he crawls on all fours to the bathroom for the millionth time this week. Once he reaches the toilet, he shoves back a short sob and stuffs down any feelings of resistance. The longer you wait, the harder it is to get rid of it all.

He doesn’t bother reaching for his toothbrush; his arms feel too hollow yet so heavy all at the same time. Instead, he stares down into the clear toilet water and tries not to let too many tears escape as he shoves his fingers down his throat. He gags and chokes a bit, and he pulls his fingers from his mouth so fast that his teeth scrape his knuckles hard enough to make them bleed. He repeats this process again and again until nothing can come up anymore, then flushes the toilet, presses his back against the base of the porcelain sink, and starts to cry.

-

The next time he and Miles have sex, it’s much slower than Alex would prefer. Miles has always been a sucker for the “let’s take our time, I want to show you how much I love you” ideology, and Alex once was too, but now, he prefers to be fucked fast and hard. He wants to forget about everything for a little while. He’ll never dare to tell this to Miles, of course.

As Miles kisses his way down Alex’s arms, he suddenly stops at his hand and stares at the boy’s fingers.

“What is it?” Alex questions hastily. “Why’d ye stop?”

“Your knuckles,” Miles points out. “What ‘appened to ‘em?”

“Oh…” Alex begins. “P-papercuts.”

“Papercuts? On your _knuckles?”_

“Yeah,” Alex yawns. “It ‘appens…”

Miles studies Alex’s expression carefully before giving up. “Okay, fine, yeah,” he sighs. “Where were we?”

-

Alex is at Matt and Breana’s flat when Miles first finds it. While Alex is out dodging invasive questions from his friends, Miles is coming up with more to ask, and none of them are particularly nice. The main one, however, probably goes a little something like this:

_If you’re dieting, why the bloody hell are there bags upon bags of junk food hidden in your drawers?_

Miles continues digging through the endless pit of saved-up snack foods and furrows his eyebrows. Malteaser’s, Mars bars, mallow cups, Twiglets, Worcester sauce crisps, Nik Naks…

…there are too many to keep track of and Miles feels ill just looking at it all.

None of this makes sense to Miles. How could Alex have so much food and still be so tiny?

Oh, no. No, no, no, _no._

Miles can only pray it’s not what he’s thinking.

-

Alex was weary of going out to dinner from the starts, but now that he’s sitting at a table with Miles and half of his friends, he wants to crawl under the table and die. He picks at the filet mignon on his plate with his fork and tries to vaporize it with his eyes. _Go away go away go away go away._

It isn’t until Jamie taps his arm that he breaks from his continuous worrying thoughts. “Al, aren’t ye gonna eat summat?” he asks.

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah. O’ course. Jus’ thinkin’, ‘s all.” Alex stares down at his fork and grips it tighter in his hand as he feels Miles’s eyes glue themselves to him. He begins cutting up his steak and shoves it all into his mouth so fast that he feels like a dog. Once the food is all gone, he downs his entire glass of wine and continues to stand up from his chair.

“’scuse me,” he says to the table. He proceeds to walk into the bathroom and tries his best not to trip and fall on his way.

Once Alex disappears through the black door, Miles stands up as well and nods to Nick across the table. “Be righ’ back,” he says. Quickly, he makes his way to the restroom as well. The minute he walks in, he can hear what sounds like someone vomiting in the very last stall. Miles runs down to it and immediately calls, _“Alex?”_

The gagging sounds stop almost immediately at that. Inside, Alex grips the base of the toilet bowl and tries not to blow his cover. “W-what?” he responds weakly.

“Are you sick?” Miles asks.

“Uh…”

“Alex.” His tone is more serious than it’s ever been, making the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stand up on end. “Alex, open the door.”

Alex flushes the vomit-filled toilet and turns to unlock the stall door, still trembling worse than ever before. He pulls open the door and shuts his eyes tightly, not yet mentally prepared to look Miles in the eye.

“Al,” Miles whispers. “I need ye t’be very honest with me righ’ now. Are ye or are ye not doing this t’yourself on purpose?”

“I…” Alex shakes his head. “That’s- that’s dumb. I don’t… why would I…”

“Alexander David Turner,” Miles demands. “Answer me right now.”

Alex’s lips quiver, and soon enough, he can’t hold back anymore. He bursts into a messy sob and starts hiccupping violently all the while. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I hate myself, I- I _hate_ myself…”

Miles protectively wraps his arms around the boy at that. It breaks his hear to see his boyfriend so broken; he can’t bear to see his baby, his _soulmate,_ in so much pain. “Oh, love, no… No, no, please don’t say that… Please don’t cry…”

Alex isn’t strong enough to support himself as he weeps. He clutches onto Miles as tight as he can, but even then he can’t stand on his own. He collapses against Miles and all he can do is gasp before blacking out.

-

Alex isn’t dead, but he’s already a ghost. As he lies in the hospital with a million IVs hooked up to him, filling his skinny body with medicine and liquid food, Miles watches him from the chair across the room with a worried heart.

He feels guiltier than anyone on the planet. For the past year, he’s unknowingly watched Alex fall apart behind closed doors and he didn’t even do anything about it until now.

He’s afraid it’s too late. Because now, he can’t even pick up the pieces of the boy who was once so whole. Alex is shattered.

Alex is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://spookymileskane.tumblr.com) / [instagram](http://instagr.am/and.a.smile)


End file.
